


pray for daylight

by duckbunny



Category: Do No Harm (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Interrogation, M/M, Predicament Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10658901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckbunny/pseuds/duckbunny
Summary: Sometimes Ruben makes bad choices, and most of those have to do with fucking Jason Cole. Or fucking Ian Price, in this case.He probably shouldn't be fucking Ian Price. He definitely shouldn't.He is.





	pray for daylight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queenjaneapprox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenjaneapprox/gifts).



> I've tagged this as noncon. Specifically: There's a consensual progression into a sort-of-relationship, and then Ian goes way too far with a kink thing and doesn't respond to withdrawal of consent.

Ruben is strung up by his wrists.

He’s not, entirely, sure how he got here. That is, he remembers how he got here, and every step along the way seemed to make some kind of sense, but now he’s dangling from a hard point he’s not sure he trusts, and his arms ache and his calves are burning and he’s maybe getting very scared and maybe getting horribly turned on.

He didn’t plan to end up this way. He started, two months ago, being kissed silly against the wall outside his lab and honestly not being sure, even after he checked his watch, whether it was Jason or Ian who decided to kiss him. He started out thinking about that all the next day, a solid body pinning him to the wall and not just to intimidate him, hot tongue licking at his lips, hands on his waist, and if he jerked off in the shower thinking about it that’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s never liked going out to clubs. He hasn’t had time to look for even casual sex for years, feels like, because of Ian and Jason, Jason’s problem with Ian, so yeah, he took the chance when it was finally offered to get something in return. And Ian was a good kisser.

And then Ian started texting him, because Jason is a dumb shit who let him get Ruben’s number out of his phone, and Ruben knew he ought to stop opening the texts in the lab - weird enough to be getting texts from the alternate personality you’re trying to remove whilst you’re actively doing the research on that, but even less appropriate when every other message makes you blush - but he didn’t stop, because someone texting him filthy suggestions was new, and exciting, and _nice._

He refused to reply to start with. That lasted for about a week, and Ian was – he wasn't _not_ focused on sex, but he wasn't quite so explicit about it. He spent more time talking about Ruben being attractive. Told him his mouth was pretty, and he had nice hands, and his ass was a perfect handful. Talked about wanting to kiss him.

Okay. So Ruben's weak in the face of compliments. So sue him.

Ian asked him out for coffee. Actually _asked_. Didn't just turn up at his lab and drag him along, the way he's been following along behind Jason for half a lifetime. Ian sent him a text at half past eight that said _I'm going to grab a coffee at the Starbucks over the road, want to join me?_ and when Ruben walked in Ian waved at him across the room and only had one cup in front of him.

Ruben wasn't sure why that mattered, at the time, but he's thought about it a lot since. Why he cared so much that Ian hadn't ordered for him. Something about being treated like his own person, with his own coffee preferences (latte, real milk, no sugar, unless he's getting gingerbread syrup and then an extra shot to balance it out, cinnamon on top), sure, it was that, but it was also – Ian hadn't ordered for him, because Ian was, maybe, not assuming he'd come when he was called. Because Ian actually did just want a coffee and Ruben's company would be welcome, but if he didn't turn up, it wouldn't be a big deal. Something about that felt good. Felt like, maybe, they were equals.

The actual sex started nineteen days later.

Ruben had been replying to Ian's sex talk for a couple of weeks. He'd tried only replying to the non-sex things – and he knew Ian could talk about things besides sex because he had been perfectly appropriate for an evening coffee not-date, asked about Ruben's family and where he'd studied and they'd swapped campus legends and ghost stories – but Ian kept up talking about how he liked Ruben's body and he's not fucking made of stone. Nobody talks to him liked that. Jason never fucking noticed he _had_ a body. He could have been a brain in a jar and Jason would have just said “Listen, I need a favour”.

So he started replying to the sex messages. He said “really?” and “that sounds like fun” and then he'd said “I'd like that” and “that's cruel, are you trying to make me beg?” and Ian had said “Yes” and then Ruben had been utterly useless for work that evening and had to go home and reread the conversation four times with a hand around his cock.

Ian had a lot of ideas. And Ruben also had a lot of ideas – having ideas was his _profession –_ and there was only so long they could talk about them before even Ruben would start thinking about exploring their ideas together. Like, in person. In person with Ian who he's supposed to never be in the same place as, but who has recently slammed him into an elevator wall, pushed him in a closet, and ambushed him outside his lab for the sole purpose of kissing him.

And asked him out for coffee, which does not happen to him very often.

So, when Ian said _I just woke up in Jason's office. Come up here and help me christen it,_ Ruben had taken about three seconds to decide he wanted that. Was going to do that. Was going to get in the elevator right now, the second he'd checked his pockets for any data on his research that Ian shouldn't be allowed to see, and go to Jason's office.

Ian wouldn't let Ruben kiss him. That had sent a hot flush all down his spine, Ian's hand on his mouth, stopping him. He'd pushed down and Ruben had obeyed, knelt between Ian's spread legs and had the strangest feeling that reality had gone away somewhere and left Ruben in a dream.

“Aw, come on,” Ian had said at the sight of the condom, and Ruben had lifted his chin.

“I'm not doing it without. I know what you get up to.” He'd met Ian's piercing eyes and his hands shook a little but he didn't look away, until Ian said “Okay, fine, get on with it,” and let him roll it on and sink down around Ian's – Jason's – _Ian's_ cock, whoever else might use it in the daytime, Ian's cock fat and heavy on his tongue. Slightly flattened in profile, prominent head, on the short side and that just meant Ruben could fit more of it in his mouth. Ian had pushed on the back of his head and called him a pretty little slut and then slapped him when he was done and left him there.

Ruben had been so hard it made him dizzy.

Four days after that he'd taken a gamble, after he'd eaten his greasy sandwich bought on the way home from the lab, and texted Ian at nearly midnight _Hey, remember what you said about booty calls? Do those work in reverse?_ and he'd ended up sprawled out on his own bed with an aching jaw, fighting his way out of the tie Ian had left around his wrists, rutting against the sheets. He's still pretty sure Ian put a tie on specifically so he could use it on Ruben, and he's still feeling guilty because it was Jason's tie, and he can't give it back.

Ian never reciprocated. Ruben could get himself off, if his hands were free, or Ian would stroke him off while he was getting fucked, or tease him until his eyes rolled back in his head, but once Ian was done he would leave. Anything after that was Ruben's own problem. He threw the handcuff keys down on the pillow and Ruben had practically dislocated his thumb trying to get them unlocked. He'd untie one hand and leave Ruben to deal with the rest. It shouldn't have been hot. Ruben loved it.

This, tonight, is the most elaborate bondage Ian's ever put him in, and they didn't spend weeks discussing this one by text. He figured it out pretty quickly once Ian got him set up, but he's shocked by how effective it is. His heartrate is going through the roof.

“Please let me down,” he tries, and Ian laughs.

“You can go down any time you like.”

“Not really,” Ruben gasps. “Move the spikes? Please?”

He's not even sure what the spikes are. They're – probably – he hopes – not all that sharp. Not sharp enough to actually break the skin, but you don't have to cut someone to make it really fucking hurt to rest their body weight on a point under their heels. He can't lower himself for even a few seconds. But his legs are shaking from holding himself on tiptoe, and his arms are burning from trying to hold his weight up that way, and he's hard. And Ian's just staring at him and fiddling with his belt buckle. Ruben's going to cry if this lasts much longer.

“See, the thing is,” Ian says suddenly, “you know something you've not been telling me.”

“I don't know what you mean.” Ruben whines as the spikes dig into him again, trying to change his grip on the ropes around his wrists.

“Sure you do. You've been working for Jason, we both know that. And you're still working for Jason, because you live in the pathetic hope that he'll notice your crush on him. That's right, isn't it?”

“No,” Ruben says, and Ian's face goes cold. He pulls his belt out of his pants. Ruben tries to twist away and fails.

“Don't lie to me,” he says, and aims for the soft parts of Ruben's thighs. “Don't do that. You know better than that. You gotta be good for me, Ruben, you don't want to disappoint me, do you?”

Oh, God.

“No,” Ruben says, and “I don't know what, what you're asking, we work at the same hospital, oh fuck stop please don't hit me-”

“You're still working for Jason. Let's just take that part as read. It's obviously hard for you to face reality about that. But you see, Rubes, I have to know what you're working on. I have to keep myself safe. You understand that, don't you? Do you understand that?”

Ruben nods.

“Out loud,” Ian tells him chidingly, and gives him another smack with the belt for good measure. Ruben swings in his restraints, the spikes digging into his soles. He sobs.

“I understand.”

“So, you're working for Jason. And that means you're working on something about me. What is it, Rubes? You can tell me.”

Ruben's lips are going numb from adrenaline. “I can't. I promised.”

“Just tell me, and you can come down.”

Ian shoves him hard in the hips, to make him swing again, and steps away.

He tries everything. He tries begging, but Ian won't acknowledge he's even heard it. He tries to sound serious and convincing and make Ian understand he isn't playing, but Ian just smirks and picks at his fingernails. He tries bargaining and Ian says he's not changing the deal. Ruben talks and then he can come down. He stays up there until he talks. How are your shoulders, Rubes? Holding up okay?

It's the feet that break him. His legs and shoulders blur into one huge ache that he can almost, almost ignore, but the spikes under his heels are a fresh agony every time his muscles weaken and it _keeps happening_ and with how he's shaking and off balance they keep finding new places to dig in.

He cries.

“I'll tell you,” he says around the tears, “please, let me down, I'll tell you,” and when Ian says “Talk _first_ ,” he has no more resistance left.

“It's a kill drug,” he says, and strains his thighs to keep his heels up. “It's not a new kind of sedative. He's not trying to control you. He's trying to kill you.”

Ian drops the belt on the floor. “See, that wasn't so hard, was it?” He runs his nails down Ruben's twitching sides. “I knew you could do it. That was very good, Rubes, you took that better than I thought.”

Ruben hates how that makes him relax. Hates that when Ian kicks the spikes away and lifts him bodily to get his wrists off the hard point, he clings to Ian's shoulders and lets himself be held. His cock is throbbing. Ian's been hard this whole time too and Ruben can't stop thinking about it, even when he tries. He doesn't want it to be Ian who strokes his hair and tells him he's a good boy. He doesn't know who else it could possibly be.

He sucks Ian off in the shower with one hand wrapped around his own straining cock and he doesn't think about anything but the press against his throat and the hand on the back of his head, keeping him safe, helping him be good. He just wants to be good enough. He just wants someone to tell him it's over.

When Jason comes down to the lab the next morning, it's all Ruben can do not to throw a stack of printouts at his head.


End file.
